Tongue Tied
by Aarlauna Rose
Summary: Áile has the good fortune to perform for Elisif at the Blue Palace. Surely it couldn't hurt to poke around a little? It's not like there's anything dangerous in the Pelagius Wing, after all...


It was quiet. Not the normal kind of quiet. This was the kind of quiet that lingered about old libraries and ancient tombs. This place qualified as both, she supposed. But here, the ghosts were memories, lingering in the corners among the dust and cobwebs. She heard the Mad King was obsessed with cleanliness- the state of this place must be driving his ghost _mad_. Well, _more_ mad.

Áile didn't have much time. She would be missed as soon as dinner was over, and Elisif demanded her presence. That gave her just under an hour to explore. It was unwise to be poking around the palace, but when would she get a second chance? The only reason she'd been invited was because Pantea Ateia had a chest cold. So long as she wasn't caught, everything would be fine.

The Pelagius Wing might be boring to the casual observer, but to her, it was _alive_. She could almost see the servants rushing about, the King glowering at the window. The indistinct murmuring of conversation in the back of her head was almost believable. Distracted by a tapestry on the wall, she didn't notice that something was in her way until she heard a shrill scrape. Áile looked down, brows furrowed. A... bone? A _hip bone_? Why...?

She looked around her, but there was no sign of the rest of the skeleton. That was certainly... odd. She picked it up with more confusion than anything else, though a strange chill crept up her spine. Hmm. Perhaps... some hidden alcove? Someone could have hidden a body here- it was certainly a convenient place to do it. Áile moved down the hall, her sharp eyes looking for anything that might be a hidden switch, or a false floor, or-

***WHOOSH***

"-and then I told her, 'Off with ye! I'll not be standing for such frivolous tripe.' Imagine! Crimson!_ In my own home!_ Mad, that one. So, naturally, I let her do it. Not much for it. She had a point, after all."

"Such a shame, though. She had _such_ potential."

"Oh, aye, the clever lass. But she'll not be haunting those halls any longer, so that's the end of that."

Áile could only stare. There was a man sitting at a table heavy with food fit for a king. He wore clothes of purple and gold, as brilliant and luminous as his eyes. Feverish might be a better description, truthfully. He seemed perfectly civilized aside from that, with his neatly brushed grey hair and trimmed beard. But those _eyes_... by the Nine, those were unnerving. The fact that he was having a lively conversation with _himself_ didn't exactly ease her.

"Anyway, I was talking to Stanley the other day-"

"Wait. Let's not be rude, aye? There's a guest. A lady, no less."

And then those eyes were suddenly fixed on her. Áile felt the blood drain from her face. Were those... he had pupils like a _cat_. Every instinct she had was screaming danger.

"Ah, no, not a lady. Ladies don't sneak around forbidden areas of the Blue Palace, nor do they show up uninvited to a tea party- woefully underdressed." His voice deepened, almost to a growl. "Awfully rude of ye, girl. But I'm in a humoring mood. Take a seat."

And before she could blink, she was seated on the opposite end of the table. Áile looked down to find herself dressed in the finest clothes she'd ever seen- this fabric was _expensive_. She'd only ever seen Elisif wear anything like it- cool and flowing like water over her skin, the color of a winter sky. Her eyes snapped back to the man, and her tongue finally obeyed her.

"Wh-who- who are you?" That look cautioned her to mind her manners. "Ah- I mean, I would appreciate if you'd deem to share your name with me, my Lord."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're the interloper, are ye not? Seems that you should be doing the sharing before me. You don't mind cheese, do you? I find that it offsets the greasy taste of horker quite well. Help yourself. I insist."

Her hands moved without her control- Áile watched in horror as she grabbed cheese, chicken, bread, and leeks, and then poured herself a cup of tea. Now absolutely certain that she was in the worst trouble of her life, she swallowed, then forced her eyes back on her host.

"My name is Áile, my Lord. I'm a member of the Bard's College, here to service Elisif the Fair."

Oh, that smile. It was wicked and sinister, and she had no doubts that it meant something horrible. The man leaned back in his seat, his fingertips dancing on the arms of his throne-like chair.

"Now that's a nice and proper greeting, I'll grant ye. _My _name... is Sheogorath." The look on her face must have told him much, as he leaned forward then, that grin even wider. "Ah, you've heard of me. That'll save us some time. Not that it matters overmuch- _I_ have all the time in the world."

"I- I'm sorry I interrupted-"

"Pish posh. What's done is done. Eat. Y'look skinny. That won't do."

Once again, she found herself feeling like little more than a puppet as her body moved at his command. The Daedric Prince of Madness. She was done for. Death would be a blessing. But he cared not for how dry her mouth was, or how little her tense jaw wished to become pliable. He wanted her to eat, so she did, all the while her wide eyes looking at him in fear.

"Now where was I? Oh yes. Interrupting. Quite rude, you know. I was in the middle of a lovely conversation. What _are_ they teaching children these days? I could just let you go. Quick slap on the rump and a sharp scolding. But no. No, I think you need more of a reminder. You're the sneaky sort, I see. Peering into dark corners, hiding in the shadows, putting your ear to closed doors. All good fun, aye? And I wouldn't take that from ye, no. I'm not_ that_ cruel. At least not today... whatever today is. I lost track a while ago. Ah... what was I saying? Oh, yes." Sheogorath took a sip of his tea, dainty as you please, before he cleared his throat and continued. "Punishment to fit the crime. I'm a fan of cruel irony, you see. So a simply spanking just won't do, no matter how educational. Oh, you can stop now. I imagine you're thirsty. Have some tea. Add sugar or cream if you like. Isn't it marvelous? It's a brew from Elsweyr."

"Ah, you like it, do you? It's a favorite of mine. I'll be sure to have some at hand the next time we meet. Now, here's the thing. I've never been one to discourage mischief, aye? It's in my nature. It _is_ my nature, y'could say. So I won't be stoppin' ye from doing it. But you won't be tellin' a soul about it."

Sheogorath snapped his fingers. There was a strong burning sensation in Áile's throat, hot enough to make tears spring to her eyes. No. He didn't- he _couldn't_-

"Aye, I did. There'll be no more singing from you, little lark. Spy all you want- you'll never do anything but satisfy your own curiosity."

He laughed. He laughed as hot tears spilled over her cheeks, and she shook with rage. Her voice. _Her voice_. He stole her voice. Her livelihood. Her joy. The one thing she was ever _good_ at. He took it away forever. Áile stood, unsure what she meant to do- likely leap over the table like a fool- but with an idle gesture, she was forced back into the seat.

"Oh, come now, I'm not _completely_ unreasonable. You'll have a chance to fix things. It's far too boring if mortals are never given a way out, no matter how difficult the task. But for you, I'll be kind and give you something related to your interests. If you want me to return what I've stolen, then you'll steal something for me. The Thieves Guild has something of value to me- something that not a one of them will admit to having. Steal it, and you'll get your voice back. And maybe make some memories and friends along the way, blah blah blah blah. You know how it goes. You're a bard, after all."

Steal? From the _Guild_? He's barking mad. That's impossible. In the last year they'd spread across Skyrim, become more powerful than they'd been in a decade. People _feared_ them again, and that reputation wasn't without reason. She hadn't stolen anything for _years_. Nothing serious, anyway. How was she supposed to do this?

"Oh, that's your own problem. But it'll be entertaining to watch, that's for sure. I could use the distraction. Stanley isn't a very good conversationalist since I threw him off Punishing Point. Have you finished your tea? Good. Off you go then- keep the dress. It's rather fetching. And really..."

That grin returned, and his voice was once again that dark growl that set her on edge.

"Good luck."

***WHOOSH***

Áile found herself back in the hallway. The hip bone fell from her hands and clattered on the floor. That... that was a hallucination, right? It wasn't real. Couldn't be. The Daedric Prince of _Madness_? No.

But when she tried to laugh, she heard nothing. And then, she wept.


End file.
